Call Me Abby
by Goldwashington
Summary: Abby Whelan and Olivia Pope have known each other since they were students at Georgetown Law. This is the story of their friendship pre-OPA.
1. Chapter 1

**Hi! Thanks for checking out my story! This is only my second attempt at fan fiction, so please be gentle(ish). "Call Me Abby" is actually the prologue for a multi-chapter fic– in my head, anyway. I'll continue if there's interest. So don't be shy. Leave reviews and feedback!**

It's 10 'til 9 when Abby arrives at McDonough Hall. She scans the seating chart posted outside room 215, then quickly makes her way inside. She's been assigned a seat at the end of row 5, so there will be just one student sitting next to her.

"Abigail Whelan," she says, offering her hand to the young woman.

"I know. Olivia Pope."

They give each other polite smiles and shake hands.

"Call me Abby," says the redhead as she takes her seat.

Olivia nods and begins methodically arranging a notepad, pens (one red, one black), and a highlighter to the right of her laptop. Abby glances at her wearily.

"I hope she's not OCD," she thinks to herself.

A few minutes later, a wiry man wearing a corduroy blazer with suede elbow patches strides to the podium at the front of the room.

"He's straight out of Central Casting," Abby murmurs.

Olivia chuckles lightly.

After glancing at the sheet in front of him, the professor clears his throat and turns in their direction.

"Ms. Whelan," he says.

Abby groans inwardly. "_Of course _I'm the first person he calls on."

"Can you give us the facts of Scott versus Shepherd, also known as the case of the flaming squib?"

Before Abby can respond, the professor continues."First, tell us what a squib might be."

Abby feels her palms begin to sweat.

"A squib is a broken firecracker that burns but doesn't explode, sir."

"I don't think everyone heard you, Ms. Whelan"

Abby repeats herself a bit more loudly.

"And who or what is a larrikin, Ms. Whelan? The case involves a larrikin, correct?"

"Yes, sir. A larrikin is a boisterous person who is often badly behaved."

"I'm sure you don't know _anything_ about bad behavior, do you, Ms. Whelan?" the professor says, eliciting snickers.

Without waiting for a response, he says, "Please continue giving us the facts."

Abby looks at her page-long brief (that she dutifully typed the night before) and proceeds to talk about the case in a clear, strong voice belying her nerves.

Olivia is impressed.

After several minutes, the professor turns his attention to another student, and Abby slides back in her chair.

"Nice work," Olivia writes in tall, elegant cursive on the notepad between them.

"Thanks," Abby scrawls back, still reeling from the adrenaline rush that comes with being put on the spot.

At the class's conclusion Abby hurriedly begins packing up her laptop and notes.

"On your way to another class?" Olivia asks

"No, I just want to get the hell out of here," Abby responds.

"When's your next one?"

"Noon," Abby says, exhaling loudly.

"Contracts?"

"Yep."

"Me too," Olivia says, then pauses. "Want to go to the law library to kill time?"

"Nah, I'm starving. I woke up late, so I didn't have a chance to eat breakfast. Want to go to Peets– that coffee shop on the first floor?"

Sensing Olivia's apprehension, Abby reassures her they can do some reading there.

"OK," Olivia says, grabbing her jacket.

The pair is filing out of the classroom when Abby whips around and narrows her eyes.

"What was up with that comment? 'I'm sure you don't know _anything _about bad behavior, do you?'"

Abby's nasal impersonation makes Olivia giggle.

"I think he was just going for a laugh."

"At my expense? Not cool," she says tilting her head sharply to the left.

"OK, Sensitive Sally…"

"I am not sensitive," Abby contends, standing up a little straighter.

Olivia just grins.


	2. Chapter 2

**Sorry it's been 84 years since I updated! **

**In this chapter, I get into Abby's backstory– my version, anyway. Aside from being in a crappy marriage for four years, we don't know much about Abby's life pre-OPA. Oh well. Leaves room for me to play. :)**

"Do you always cook this much food?" Olivia asks a bit awed.

To her surprise, Abby has made them a pot roast, potatoes, carrots and onions– enough to feed an army– for dinner.

"I don't really know how to cook for one," the redhead says as she gingerly removes an apple pie from the oven.

"Where did you learn to cook like this?"

"By watching my mom, mostly. And I had dinner duty once a week. If you don't want dirty looks and complaints, you'll figure things out."

"You had to make dinner once a week?" Olivia asks. Maybe if she'd had to cook, she wouldn't be living on microwave popcorn.

Yeah. Well, just Chris, Meg and me. Kim and Patrick were too young."

"So where are you in the lineup?"

"Smack dab in the middle."

"A middle child," Olivia says, a knowing smile creeping onto her lips.

"Don't," Abby replies with a shake of her head.

"I think it would be fun to have lots of brothers and sisters."

"You're an only child, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"I knew it."

"What does that mean?"

"You just seem…" Abby pauses, trying to find the right words. "Like someone who spent a lot of time by themselves."

Olivia's expression is blank and Abby isn't sure if she's offended her.

"So it wasn't fun?" Olivia asks, a hint of disappointment in her voice. Growing up, she'd always longed for siblings. Even just one sister would have satisfied her.

A partner in crime. A traveling companion. Someone to share secrets with.

"Sometimes. I guess. There was also a lot of noise. And a distinct lack of privacy. I didn't even have my own room until I was a sophomore in college."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously," Abby says with a raised brow.

"Did you ever go home just to escape the dorm?" she continues. "I would have if I were you."

"I didn't really go home much."

"Oh."

From the tone of Olivia's voice, Abby can tell it's a sore subject. She wonders if her mother's death is to blame.

Last week, after an impassioned discussion with Melinda (as Abby calls her when talking to friends) about the proper way to store bananas, she made the mistake of asking Olivia, "Don't you hate it when your mom acts like she knows everything?"

"My mom's been dead for awhile."

"Oh, I'm sorry, Liv."

"It's fine," Olivia had said with a wave of her hand, and the conversation ended there.

After setting Abby's tiny dining room table, the girls sit down to Sunday dinner. Abby tucks into the meal with obvious enthusiasm, prompting giggles from Liv.

"What?" she asks, looking up from her plate.

"How do you eat like that and stay so thin?"

"Who knows. The good Lord. My whole family is skinny," she replies, spearing a carrot. "And we all have red hair."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Irish. Both sides."

"Where are you from again?"

"Lakewood. Just west of Cleveland. You're from around here, right?"

"Mmm hmm." Olivia answers, taking a bite of potato. She doesn't offer any additional details and, despite a growing curiosity, Abby doesn't press her. Instead she tells Olivia about her siblings and her parents– Melinda, a 6th grade English teacher, and Paul, a police officer.

"When I got into Georgetown, my dad was so pissed. He was like, 'Abigail Marie Claire Whelan! You're really going to devote your life to helping criminals get off?!' And I was like, 'Who said anything about being a defense attorney?!' And he was like, 'As if prosecutors are much better.'"

"You've got to be the only person I've met whose parents weren't thrilled about them getting into law school," Olivia says with a laugh.

"My mom was happy. She's always encouraged us kids to follow our dreams. I take it your dad was happy."

"He was," Olivia replies, her voice flat. "He sent me to really expensive boarding schools so...he felt like his investment paid off."

Abby can't help herself.

"What does your dad do for a living?"

"He's a curator at the Smithsonian."

Olivia gets quiet again, so Abby picks up the conversation, regaling her with tales of her colorful childhood in suburban Ohio.

Liv is cautious and private– two characteristics that make her and Abby very different. But they aren't total opposites. Both are intelligent, hard working, and never back down from a challenge.

In the weeks ahead, the young women develop a genuine affection for one another. And a mutual respect. They help each other, and come to think of themselves as allies rather than competition.

They have their fellow law students for that.


End file.
